


Sharp Tongues and Tight Ropes

by embeer2004



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: BDSM, Body Worship, Caring, Frustration, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rope Bondage, Shibari, he's got a good reason this time, lambert's attitude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Lambert needs to calm down and Letho has an idea for how to make him. Using his superior strength and surprising speed, Letho shows Lambert how to give it all up.
Relationships: Lambert/Letho z Gulety | Letho of Gulet
Comments: 29
Kudos: 96
Collections: Witcher Kinkmeme Collection





	Sharp Tongues and Tight Ropes

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the witcher kinmeme prompt: Letho/Lambert- Dom!Letho/brattysub!lambert.

“Screw him. Who does he think he is? Betcha the old man wouldn’t let it slide either.”  
  
Hearing the familiar voice, Letho perked up and looked up from his mead; his eyes searching the inn’s crowd until they stumbled upon the youngest of the wolf witchers. Narrowing his eyes, he silently watched as Lambert headed in his direction; the bench he was sitting on the only one in the inn with still some free spots left at this time of day.  
  
People tended to avoid him and he liked it just fine that way. They tended to take one look at his hulking figure before deciding that they needed to be somewhere else, and this was even before they’d caught sight of his eyes or his swords, which were propped up against the table, always within hands’ reach.  
  
Lambert’s shoulders were hunched, and he continued angrily muttering under his breath, too soft for the regular inn patrons. He reached his arm around a barmaid passing by and held up some orens before lifting the bottle of Temerian rye from her tray and continuing on his way over.  
  
The wolf’s eyes were set in a glare, but he plopped himself down right next to him and took a large gulp straight from the bottle. “Thought you had gone back to the south,” Lambert said with a tight voice.  
  
Shrugging, Letho calmly took a more measured sip of his mead. “The south’s not a good place to be in right now,” he calmly told him. “Haven’t heard of you going anywhere for a while now.”  
  
Lambert gritted his teeth and took another shot, and if that bottle had been full when he’d grabbed it off the tray it was surely half finished by the time Lambert finally let go and poked him in the arm. “Won’t stay around long here either,” he muttered, “just long enough to finish was must be done.”  
  
Curious, Letho tilted his head. “So what wouldn’t the old man let slide?”  
  
Slapping the table, Lambert shot him a glare. “Aiden, man,” he hissed angrily before slumping down in his chair, giving him what for him counted as an apologetic look as he moved his leg and pressed it against his own. “Had a buddy,” he started, “Aiden, of the school of the cat. Geralt and I tracked down his murderer but the _bastard_ came in between,” he hissed. “Wouldn’t let me kill him.”  
  
Letho fondled his mug, tilting his head in a way that indicated to the other that he was listening.  
  
“So I told him that he wouldn’t be so lucky when Geralt wasn’t around,” Lambert continued. “And the _white wolf_ isn’t around right now.” A gleam shot through his eyes as he raised the bottle again, draining it dry with several gulps and tossing the bottle on the floor. He slumped over, thumping his hand on the table in an angry staccato.  
  
“Lambert…” Letho drawled, bumping against the other’s shoulder, “if you didn’t do it before, you’re not gonna do it now. You _wanted_ to be stopped.” And that was the right truth of it. He and Lambert had travelled together for a while, years ago, and he had gotten to know the witcher pretty well. If Lambert wanted someone dead, they would end up dead, friend or brother not standing between them.  
  
“Fuck that Karadin, man.” Lambert’s voice cracked as he slapped his hand on the table again. “Fuck him and his whole turning around and seeking for redemption business!” Then he deflated, staring longingly at Letho’s still half full mug of mead.  
  
Handing it over, Letho patted him on the back. “So why’re you here?”  
  
Lambert’s jaw clenched, but he accepted the mug and shot it down in one go. “Bastard lives around here. Wanted to give him a _visit_ , but then…” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
“You’re feeling powerless,” Letho hedged, telling it as he knew it to be from his own experience.  
  
“Shut up, viper,” Lambert gritted out, pulling his leg away, his body tensing.  
  
Letho sighed, but didn’t take it personally. This was simply Lambert trying to deal with it. And if he guessed correctly it was the first time that a _friend_ had died. Rough that. “You act all tough, but I can see right through you.”  
  
Lambert shrugged again, fiddling around with the marking on the mug.  
  
“Alcohol’s a good way to get your mind off things, but this place ain’t got enough for the level of pain you’re trying to drink away. You get drunk on piss poor rye, and then what?”  
  
Lambert jerked his head towards the inn’s door. “They’re boxing outside.”  
  
Letho frowned. “A fight’s not gonna give you what you want either.” Yes, the man perhaps thought he was itching for a fight, with his body and mind restless, but he knew Lambert. After all the work he’d done to identify his friend’s murderer, to simply walk away; not having been able to prevent it in the first place… “You’re not looking to win, are you?” No, Letho knew it in his gut that Lambert was going to do one thing or another to get himself in trouble so he would be punished. Drink enough and destroy the inn, only for the innkeep to call on the cops and beat him up before dragging him off to prison for a long and hard sobering up. Or box outside and just… act like a human; letting himself lose on purpose. It all ended in the same thing, basically. Find one type of pain and replace it with another.  
  
“What I _want,_ ” he breathed out harshly, “is Aiden back. But Karadin killed him, or Treugger, as he now likes to call himself.”  
  
“My condolences.” Karadin, Treugger… now that were names he was going to remember.  
  
Lambert grasped the mug tightly in his hands before throwing it to the floor, its exploding shards mixing with those of the bottle before. He glared at him, and his shoulders heaved as he obviously struggled not to say or do anything he would regret later. “Yeah? Well, fuck you and your condolences! You know what, screw Geralt too!” And with that, the witcher got off the bench and stormed out the door.  
  
With a grimace, Letho put some extra orens on the table and picked up his swords, waiting until he was outside before putting them on his back. He could smell the other witcher now, Lambert’s musky scent was trailing off in a northern direction.  
  
It wasn’t hard to track where Lambert was going, either his footsteps or his smell, and Letho arrived well in time to see Lambert standing underneath the pergola right in front of the Passiflora. The man was scowling at the building, looking at the two marked entrances; one on ground floor, the other reachable by the stairs above the pergola, leading up to the first floor.  
  
Lambert was breathing heavily, and his hands clenched and unclenched rhythmically.  
  
Curious, Letho walked up to him, making sure to let his feet fall heavier than they normally would, and leaned his hip against the edge of the fancy fountain.  
  
“Thought I told you to piss off,” Lambert mumbled once he’d got wind of him, his body visibly tensing.  
  
Letho shrugged; he hadn’t, actually. “Remember when we first met?”  
  
Shifting, Lambert turned around, and there was confusion and a glint of something else in his eyes besides anger and frustration. Oh, he remembered all right.  
  
Nodding towards the Passiflora, Letho let his hands cross over his chest. “I have to admit. This is better than letting yourself get beat up by some lightweight peasants, but I doubt you can get what you actually need in there either.”  
  
Lambert tapped his hand on one of the wooden beams. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Any fool can wave a crop or slap someone around,” Letho waved up towards the first floor. He could see it in his mind’s eye: Lambert wanting to be overpowered, either slapped around or held down so he could be punished for his perceived failure. And sure, humans could bring him the pain he craved, but it clearly wasn’t what he needed. The young wolf had _no idea_ what he actually needed. “Forget about the humans, wolf. You’re sooner to break something than get what you need in there.”  
  
“Screw you, Letho,” Lambert hissed, though there was no venom in his voice. Just… resignation…  
  
“You need to calm down before you do something you’re gonna regret.” Well, perhaps he would regret the Passiflora’s attentions less than he would if he’d started a brawl, but Letho just _knew_ that Lambert wouldn’t be able to let go. He would end up with his coin pouch emptier and his mind still as restless as before. He needed someone who understood _him_.  
  
“I’m a witcher,” Lambert stated in a stilted, practiced tone. “Don’t have emotions, can’t regret anything.”  
  
Stepping away from the fountain, Letho reached for Lambert’s wrists and gently held them between his hands, seeking out his eyes.  
  
Tugging his wrists free, Lambert retreated farther underneath the pergola, a wry smile appearing on his face. “I know this is freakin’ romantic and all,” he swirled one hand around, gesturing towards the flowers, “but I ain’t interested.”  
  
“You were, once…” Letho said quietly, remembering their days and nights together.  
  
Lambert shook his head and turned back around to watch the Passiflora. “That was a long time ago.”  
  
Letho circled around the pergola, blocking Lambert’s view of the fancy whorehouse. He ducked his head a bit, trying to will Lambert to meet his eyes. He gentled his tone as much as he knew how to, but didn’t touch again. “I wanna help, wolf.”  
  
Lambert’s gaze shifted towards the floor. “You can’t help me.”  
  
“I can get you to calm down faster than if you go on a rampage through all the inns and whorehouses of Novigrad,” Letho told him, certain of that fact.  
  
A glint appeared in Lambert’s eyes that spelled trouble. “All right, then I won’t ask them to slap me around. Instead I’m going in there and fuck every whore in sight. Work off my excess energy, you know?”  
  
Bad… idea… with the anger and frustration still running through Lambert’s veins. “Can’t let you do that. State you’re in right now, you’ll leave them bowlegged for life.”  
  
He saw Lambert pulling back and readying to punch him well before his hit could land.  
  
Dodging the blow with ease, it was instinct to make a half-pirouette. He then grabbed Lambert’s arm and used the man’s momentum against him, pulling him into his arms with ease. Enough was enough, though.  
  
Lambert, taken off guard by the quick move, looked like he was ready to make a run for it, but Letho already had a hold on him and he quickly picked up him up, manhandling him with ease. He ended up with Lambert being securely tucked underneath his own arm, butt in the direction Letho was facing and his legs and arms pointing towards the ground. The other witcher’s swords felt a bit uncomfortable, pressing up against the sensitive flesh underneath his armpits, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.  
  
“Seriously man! What am I, a sack of potatoes?” Lambert grumped, wiggling around in his hold.  
  
Letho squeezed Lambert just a bit tighter, trying to stop him from moving, and slapped his behind. “Nope, you had your chance, wolf. We’re going to my place and you’re going to calm down.”  
  
Lambert’s hands came up to grasp Letho’s arm, but then he released a little ‘oohmf’ and let them dangle again, remaining silent for their short walk towards Letho’s temporary stay.  
  
After entering his place, Letho only took a moment to turn around and make sure the door was locked before walking over towards the flimsy bed. Then he let go of Lambert and let the other witcher drop belly-down onto the mattress, taking care to do it as gentle as he could. The man was a friend, after all.  
  
Righting himself, Lambert glared at him “You’re a real prick, you know that?”  
  
Letho shrugged. “Been called worse.”  
  
Lambert sat himself on the edge of the bed and put his hands in his lap, and Letho could see the slight trembles running through them.  
  
Kneeling down, he slowly reached for Lambert’s hands.  
  
Lambert allowed him the move; even turned his hands up and pressed his palms against his, but there was a furious glint shimmering in his eyes. Actually no… it was helpless rage; Letho had seen that look on his own face whenever he was confronted with his own reflection after both Serrit and Auckes had been killed.  
  
Smiling wryly, Letho stroked his thumb over the back of Lambert’s wrists. “Things were easier, south of the Yaruga…”  
  
Lambert nodded and returned his look. “That was long ago.” He looked just dead tired and Letho knew that he hadn’t been sleeping. His quest for revenge had been the only thing holding him up for all this time and now that it had been denied to him the man was starting to unravel. Lambert’s nose scrunched up then in that funny way it used to do whenever he was thinking something over, and then he sighed deeply, letting his shoulders hunch. “You won’t let me fight, you won’t let me get slapped around and you won’t let me fuck…”  
  
Letho tilted Lambert’s chin up, meeting his weary eyes. “Not with strangers, no.” At least not tonight.  
  
“Yeah, you're offering.” Lambert rolled his eyes. “I really couldn't tell from the way you carried me here. Prick.”  
  
Letho raised an eyebrow at him, hoping the question was clear enough on his face. _Will you let me take care of you?  
_  
“I keep thinking the entire friggin’ time. And I’m tired of it. I’m tired and so fucking _angry_ …” Lambert gritted out, deflating a bit further.  
  
“I could help you stop thinking. At least for tonight,” Letho told him.  
  
Finally letting go of his hand, Lambert lay his palm flat on Letho’s chest and stood up; Letho accommodated him and stood up with him, letting the witcher push him around. “You’re good, but…” Lambert shook his head angrily, hope and want and rage and helplessness all shooting through behind his eyes and Letho knew that if he messed up now, Lambert would be out the door and end up in trouble.  
  
Grinning lightly, Letho lay his hand over the one Lambert had pressed up against his chest. “I know you’re feeling helpless right now. Angry. Like the world is a void and you’re all alone. You’re feeling _empty_ ; like there’s this vacuum inside your chest…”  
  
Lambert’s brows furrowed with confusion and surprise.  
  
“Oh, I can give you what you _need_ right now, Lambert. Trust me on that. Let me quiet your mind by giving you what your body’s craving.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“You trust me?” Letho asked, already knowing the answer.  
  
Lambert rolled his eyes at him, shooting him a sardonic look. “Stupid question.” He nodded towards their entwined hands.  
  
Letho shrugged. “Well, after all that business with Foltest…”  
  
Now it was Lambert who shrugged. “Just tryin’ to survive, right?” And the look he gave him now was one full of understanding. “Geralt told me that that prick Emhyr had captured you. We know the bastard and his methods,” he sneered before softening his gaze and lifting his free hand towards Letho’s face, stroking the scar on his chin and growling angrily.  
  
Letho actually felt pleased by Lambert’s response, protective wolf that he was. Oh, but he was fond of the man. He took Lambert’s hand touching his face and captured it in his own, turning it slightly so he could press a kiss to his palm. “You’re sweet, wolf. So you trust me still: good. Can’t do this without trust.”  
  
Lambert's gaze turned slightly wary. “Can’t do _what_?”  
  
Pushing the other witcher lightly on his shoulders and guiding him back to sit on the bed, Letho raised a finger up at him in a silent order to ‘stay’. Then he walked over towards his belongings and selected several pieces of rope of differing sizes. Returning to the bed, he knelt in front of Lambert and showed him his collection.  
  
Lambert’s cheeks reddened, but there was want in his eyes.  
  
“Those whores in the Passiflora barely know the basics of tying someone up. Put some rope around a man’s wrists and tie him to the headboard and that’s about it.” Letho grunted, thinking of how he’d grown fed up of being alone and had asked for their services. It hadn’t ended well…  
  
Lambert’s brow furrowed, curious.  
  
Letho gently stroked Lambert’s leg. “You would’ve gone there and asked them for a whore, either to plough her or to be tied up and ploughed yourself. Or him, no matter. But us witchers: our minds are always alert with people we don’t trust…” Of that Letho was now completely sure. “But you trust me, so here’s what I’m offering,” and he raised the ropes a bit higher, holding them out in plain sight.  
  
“Yeah?” Lambert asked, hesitantly reaching out to touch one of the coils.  
  
“I’d like to tie you up,” Letho told him directly. “And you can either just let it happen, and I will get you all nicely tied up: a neat package for me to enjoy. And I would touch you, make you feel pleasure all over while you can’t do anything but just accept it.”  
  
Lambert hesitated. “Or?”  
  
“Or… you could struggle and rant while I do it while I wrestle you under control,” Letho finished.  
  
A panicked gleam appeared in Lambert’s eyes.  
  
Quickly, before his panic could grow, Letho let the rope fall to the floor and held Lambert’s hands, stroking the skin. “Calm, wolf. I won’t do anything you don’t want. That’s why we’re talking now, instead of me doing it already. Wanna bend you a little, but never wanna break you,” he assured.  
  
Breathing in deeply, Lambert calmed down a bit and stared down at the ropes on the floor, his brow furrowing again as he thought it over. “I’ve heard about this… there’s safewords, right?”  
  
Letho nodded. “Right. So you can play pretend and say no all you like, but I would keep on going unless you say the safeword,” he sniffed, scenting the air, “or when I pick up on distress coming off of you.”  
  
There was want and desire in Lambert’s eyes, but also a gleam of uncertainty. “Don’t think I’m in the mood for play pretend struggling,” he told him, shaking his head.  
  
“Perhaps another time,” Letho mused, “but you’re on board with this part?” He picked up the coils of rope and placed them on the bed, right next to Lambert.  
  
Reaching out for the coils, Lambert’s breath hitched in his throat. “Yeah…”  
  
“Still need a safeword,” Letho told him.  
  
Lambert snorted. “How about I just say ‘stop you prick’ when I want you to stop? Or something like that. I mean, I’m going along with your ploy right now, not gonna fake-struggle so there can’t be any confusion there if I want you to stop, right?”  
  
Grinning, Letho tilted his head at him. “Wise guy. Fine, that’ll work just fine. Take off your swords… and your gloves while you’re at it.” And with that, Letho stood up and quickly started to take off his own, removing his many layers of knives strapped all over his body as well in the process.  
  
Lambert had already taken off his gloves and placed his own swords on the floor well before Letho had finished removing his last weapon.  
  
With those weapons safely out of the way, Letho stepped in closer, bending a bit so he could put his hands on Lambert’s knees. Then he slowly moved his hands upwards, up and up, over Lambert’s belly and finally sliding them under the leather of the man’s armour to stroke his sides before moving them higher. Within moments he pushed the leather layer off of Lambert’s shoulders and gently let it drop to the floor.  
  
He bent over a bit deeper and allowed his lips to caress the skin beneath Lambert’s jaw. “Stay still for me, wolf.”  
  
Lambert huffed. “Still sitting, aren’t I?”  
  
Reaching lower, Letho grasped the material of Lambert’s dark tunic and pulled it up, reaching his hands beneath the fabric when he could and slowly dragging his hands upwards again, trailing wavy spirals over the man’s sides and feeling goosebumps appear on the witcher’s skin.  
  
Grinning, he worked the tunic all the way up, revealing Lambert’s well toned body and the dark hair that trailed all the way from his neck down to his groin. When the tunic had finally come off he threw it on top of the discarded armour and took a moment to admire the view before him.  
  
Lambert was tilting his head up at him, looking at him with a mix between a glare and longing. “I know. Difficult to look away from, right? Let me help you.” He reached for his belt buckle.  
  
Quick as a viper, Letho caught his wrist. “Patience, wolf.”  
  
Lambert shook his head and pulled, trying to free his wrist. “Patience’s not my strong suit.”  
  
Huffing, Letho picked up one of the rope coils, one of the smaller lengths, and raised his eyebrow at Lambert. “I know, and you’re all prickly and on edge like a lethal porcupine. Gonna help you with that tonight. Hold out your arms, towards me.”  
  
Lambert tilted his head, but did as he was asked.  
  
“Good man,” Letho told him, starting to uncoil the rope. Folding it in half, he slid it over Lambert’s wrists and pulled one end through the loop he’d created before winding the rope in the opposite direction, tightening the bindings. He looped the rope around Lambert’s wrists several times before turning the doubled up rope inwards, looping the rope around itself between Lambert’s wrists. He took away any remaining slack, but made sure he could still run one finger between Lambert’s skin and the rope: tight enough to ensure that Lambert wouldn’t be able to slip out of the wrist coils, but not too tight to cut off his circulation.  
  
He heard Lambert release a heavy breath, and he ducked a bit, catching the man’s eyes, seeing that his pupils had become more dilated than the lack of light in the room would permit for a witcher.  
  
“On to the next part now, wolf,” Letho suggested, already seeing Lambert try to reach for his belt buckle again, hindered this time by the awkward position his arms had been forced in. “Now… didn’t say anything about taking off your pants. Hold still.” Letho murmured, stroking Lambert’s arms. Then with just two stomps and a twist he took of his own boots, and with another few deft motions he took off his own chest armour and climbed up on the bed, ending up behind Lambert.  
  
He could feel Lambert shivering from where he was pressed up against him, but the man leaned back towards him and only glanced at him once before looking back ahead.  
  
“You _are_ going to be taking my pants off sometime this eve, aren’t you?” Lambert groused, staring down at his own lap, where a slight bulge was pressing up against his leather codpiece.  
  
“Sometime this eve, yes,” Letho agreed, smirking. He reached out for a larger piece of rope and quickly uncoiled it, seeking out the middle before starting to loop it around Lambert’s chest. He winded the rope several times below Lambert’s pectorals and then moved up to wind the rope just above his nipples. Tying the first knots, he altered the rope’s course, moving it up and over Lambert’s shoulders and starting to weave and wind a pattern that would result in a star-shaped rope harness covering his upper chest. Every now and then he ran his finger beneath the rope and Lambert’s skin, making sure he was doing this correctly, before finishing the tie in the back. “Now let’s take care of those wandering hands of yours. Raise your arms, put your hands behind your head,” he told Lambert as he selected another piece of rope.  
  
Lambert shifted his hips and brought his hands up behind him, and Letho guided his hands just a bit farther until they were posed over the witcher’s neck. Then he wound the new piece of rope around the rope between Lambert’s wrists and fed the free ends through the loop, trailing them down and underneath the ropes of the chest harness. He started winding the rope back and forth a few times between the harness and Lambert’s wrists, finally knotting it off, making sure the knots were well out of reach of any probing fingers.  
  
“Hnnng,” Lambert moaned, instinctively jerking his wrists upwards, trying to bring his hands to the front again. When he found out he couldn’t, his breath stuttered for a bit. He licked his lips and started breathing a bit faster.  
  
Letho let Lambert find out for himself that the ties wouldn’t budge and would keep his arms in place before he slipped off the bed. Standing before him, he pulled Lambert closer to the edge of the bed and brought the man’s face close to his body; cupping Lambert’s cheek and stroking over the skin. “How you doing, wolf?”  
  
Lambert shifted and his arms twitched again. The position he’d been tied in made it difficult for him to look up at him while Letho stood so close to him, so Letho went down to his knees and gently touched Lambert’s knee.  
  
“This certainly feels… _different_ ,” Lambert breathed, chest heaving.  
  
“Good different, or bad different?” Letho asked, just to be sure.  
  
The blush on Lambert’s face deepened, but he met Letho’s gaze straight on. “G-good,” he stammered out, twitching his shoulders. “Pants are… still on though…”  
  
Smiling, Letho stood up. He stepped in between Lambert’s legs and pulled him in close, scratching the man’s stubbled cheek with his blunt nails. “So impatient, wolf.” He let his hand glide over Lambert’s chest, over the ropes wrapped around him and then circled one finger over his swollen nipples, eliciting a gasp from the tied-up witcher. Letho trailed his hands down then, tracing the near-fur on Lambert’s belly, letting his fingers rest just on top of the belt buckle.  
  
Lambert leaned into him, letting his cheek rest against his abs and nuzzling into him.  
  
“Stand up,” Letho drawled, moving his hands to Lambert’s sides and helping him rise, seeing the man wobble a bit unsteadily before finding his feet.  
  
His tied arms prevented Lambert from lifting his head as high as he normally would, instead the other witcher sighed and allowed his chin to rest on his chest; no doubt he was feeling less strain in that position.  
  
The sight of him was incredibly pleasing: Lambert was lithe but well muscled; and scarred, like all witchers. No, Lambert had a nice body, but what made him beautiful to look at right now was the way his chest was moving up and down in large heaves, the way his shoulders twitched as he did so, and the way his arms were neatly tied behind his head, leaving him completely vulnerable. And he allowed this, just because Letho had offered; because Lambert trusted him with this…  
  
“Wish this place had a mirror so you could see yourself, wolf,” Letho started, laying his palm flat over Lambert’s belly and feeling the muscles twitching. “You’re so pretty like this.” He moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around Lambert, holding him close; his own arms near dwarfing the witcher’s body.  
  
One hand moved over to Lambert’s nipple and stroked it lovingly. His other hand he kept pressed flat against Lambert’s belly and Letho relished at the feel of those shuddering trembles beneath his palm.  
  
Lambert leaned back harder against him, his behind wiggling as he no doubt sought Letho’s cock.  
  
“So impatient…” Letho muttered, tightening his hold on Lambert, pinching the nipple he’d been stroking before moving on to the other one.  
  
“ _Letho_ ,” Lambert hissed, jerking in his grasp.  
  
Letho gave in; cupping the bulge in front of Lambert’s pants and rubbing over it through the heavy material. “Not nearly finished with you, wolf.”  
  
With one quick move he released Lambert’s buckle and then dragged his trousers down, together with the man’s braies. He gave a firm squeeze to the cheeks that had now been revealed before stepping around Lambert and guiding him towards the bed, pushing him down until he lay on his back.  
  
There were still a few pieces of long rope Letho wanted to use.  
  
Oh but what to do? So many options…  
  
Lambert wiggled around and tried to get up, but he wasn’t having too much luck what with his centre of gravity shifted and he was clearly having difficulty in figuring out the best way to go about this. He was trying to roll himself over, no doubt in a desire for getting some friction for his already weeping cock.  
  
Smirking, Letho knew what he was going to do.  
  
“Next part’s up, Lambert, if you’re done wiggling?” He asked, amused when Lambert looked back at him with a bashful look on his face.  
  
“Well… at least… pants… off…” Lambert breathed, still trying to roll over onto his front. “Do your… thing…”  
  
Snorting quietly, Letho scooted Lambert farther on the bed and picked up one of the ropes. He knew what he was gonna do. He could feel the grin nearly splitting his face, already having a good idea of what Lambert was going to end up doing before this play was over.  
  
“Creepy ass laugh,” Lambert managed in one breath, having calmed down some once he’d given up the effort of trying to roll over.  
  
“Never seen a smile before?” Letho teased, already planning several steps ahead. “Hands comfy?”  
  
Lambert wiggled a bit, shifting around before he finally nodded. “Yeah. They are now…”  
  
With Lambert laying on his back, Letho grabbed one leg and wrapped the rope around his ankle a few times before pushing the ankle all the way up to the back of his thigh. He continued; tying the ankle to the thigh and finally wound the rope in between the larger coils, pulling it in towards the knee before looping it back up, creating two smaller loops out of the larger one and securing the bindings, taking up any unwanted slack.  
  
“Fuck!” Lambert shouted as Letho finished with the leg. He tried out what the new bindings would or wouldn’t allow and all too soon he found out that there was no give in the bindings. At all.  
  
Making sure to stay well away from Lambert’s throbbing flesh, Letho bound the other leg in a similar fashion. Then he grinned up at him and stroked Lambert’s face gently before pressing a kiss to his lips; demanding entry with his tongue. He was very pleased when Lambert opened up right away and the man’s tongue started licking into his own mouth with enthusiasm.  
  
“You’re gonna love this,” Letho told him before reaching for Lambert’s hip and shoulder, carefully rolling him over onto his front.  
  
The moment he lay down on his belly, Lambert stilled; confused and likely still getting used to being well and truly stuck. Tied like this, it was impossible for him to stand up, and with his arms tied the way they were, throwing off his balance, he _would_ eventually figure out how to roll onto his side, but it would take several tries and most likely end up with him rolling off the bed. That wouldn’t do.  
  
“Best not to try rolling, wolf. The bed’s not big enough for you and the floor’s hard.”  
  
Growling softly, Lambert rested his head against the mattress; he really couldn’t look up towards him now. “Big enough for you,” he muttered, sounding a bit sulky.  
  
Letho huffed and patted his leg. “Trust me on this.”  
  
“Hmmf…”  
  
Just one more piece of rope.  
  
Starting at Lambert’s bent legs, Letho brought them close together until they touched, and then he looped the rope around the man’s ankles; similar as he’d done his wrists, before trailing the remaining rope up towards his chest-rope and looping the ankle-rope underneath it. Reaching under Lambert’s chest, he raised the witcher up just a bit as he pulled on the rope; this would prevent him from moving about too much and would leave his back slightly arched, pulling his face away from the mattress.  
  
Though it would cause additional strain to his breathing; he couldn’t leave him too long like this.  
  
But long enough for what he had in mind.  
  
Settling Lambert down on the mattress, Letho sat back and watched him closely.  
  
Lambert’s fingers reached out towards the rope, but he was unable to get a grasp on it. Even if he had managed to grasp it, he couldn’t have done anything besides just experiencing the feel of it, as all the knots were safely out of reach. Lambert could only rock back and forth a bit; was only able to softly hump the mattress while groaning in frustration as it was _not enough_.  
  
Seems like Lambert was beyond making sassy comments as well, focusing on his need to _breathe_ and rock back and forth, trying to create the friction he so desperately wanted right now.  
  
Letho knelt next to him and let his hands rove over the naked body; doing a quick feel of Lambert’s hands and nodding to himself at the warmth he felt and the way Lambert’s fingers tried to catch his own. His breathing was quicker, and his heart was racing, but Letho detected no sour stench of fear or panic.  
  
Bending lower, he scooted to the headboard, ducking his head low so he could meet Lambert’s gaze and not surprised at seeing the man’s pupils blown wide open. The sight of him was doing things to his own body as well, made his cock press up against his breeches.  
  
“L-letho,” Lambert managed to say in between gasps, “ _t-touch_ …”  
  
All right. So there was still a little bit of sass left in him.  
  
Tracing a thumb along Lambert’s temple, Letho kissed him again, demanding entry with his tongue and feeling warm when Lambert opened his mouth with a soft moan. With his other hand he stroked down Lambert’s front, pinching a nipple between two fingers.  
  
“Hnng!” Lambert groaned, releasing his mouth and letting his head drop towards his chest.  
  
Letho shifted around and knelt beside his hip, running his hands along Lambert’s back and over his sides, scratching lightly and delighting in the little shivers beneath him. He laughed a silent laugh at seeing Lambert try to raise his ass as far as it would go, his fingers fanning out in search of something, so Letho offered Lambert his own hand while he grasped an ass cheek with his other, kneading the surprisingly soft but muscled behind.  
  
He let Lambert rock for a moment longer and keep the grip he had on his hand as he wiggled his body every which way that he could. Tiring himself out.  
  
When he finally lay still, Letho stroked his sweaty back lovingly. “Good man,” he praised. “Finally calmed down, have you?”  
  
When there was no response forthcoming, Letho moved around until he could catch Lambert’s eyes and noticed the slight glaze in them; Lambert was clearly starting to drift. Still, Lambert’s eyes slowly met his own, though he didn’t say anything; he just blinked up at him, limply squeezing the hand he was still holding onto.  
  
“That’s it,” Letho said, stroking the back of his fingers over Lambert’s cheek and feeling that same warm something tugging in his heart at the way the man nuzzled into it.  
  
He let Lambert nuzzle and hold on to him for just a bit longer before carefully disentangling himself and grasping the man’s shoulder and hip. He rolled Lambert onto his side, facing away from him, and pulled him in closer; allowing Lambert to brace himself against his knees.  
  
The sight was just delectable. Exquisite.  
  
The way that Lambert’s back was forced into an arching position provided a good view of the star-shaped harness wrapped around his upper chest and enticingly displayed his bound pectorals and reddened nipples. His cock was dark and hard, lying straight on his belly; twitching with the rhythm of his heartbeat.  
  
Letho gripped Lambert’s jaw and kissed him, feeling those lips opening up for him once again, though the tongue that had moved so wildly before was now lazily tracing his own, following instead of plundering. Calmer.  
  
Smiling against those lips, Letho gave Lambert a small peck and shifted a bit, heading over towards Lambert’s throbbing flesh. He slipped his hand around the base before bending over it and then starting to lick over the tip, sucking it into his mouth and drawing swirling patterns with his tongue just below the head.  
  
Lambert twitched beneath him, too worn out to move much, but that was definitely a hip jerk.  
  
Holding on to the man’s hips, Letho prevented whatever movement Lambert could achieve and ducked lower, taking in Lambert’s full length; hollowing out his cheeks as he sucked, before going back up to tease the tip again.  
  
It didn’t take long for Lambert to reach his orgasm. Letho felt the little jerking movements beneath him just a moment before the man’s cum spurted down his throat and he swallowed it all, soothingly stroking down Lambert’s sides as the convulsions shook his bound body.  
  
Licking his lips, Letho stared back at his handy work, and something purred inside him at seeing Lambert so completely wrecked.  
  
Time to get those ties removed. They’d been on him long enough.  
  
“Gonna untie you now,” he huskily told Lambert, slinking off the mattress to pick up his knife and cutting off the knots, slowly and carefully unwinding the rope from around him and gently massaging Lambert’s limbs to soothe the sting.  
  
The marks those ropes had left on him certainly looked beautiful. A pity they would be gone soon.  
  
With all the bindings finally removed, Lambert lay limply on the bed; slight trembles shaking his body as his eyes lazily followed Letho’s movements. He looked worn out, but calm, and his eyes still had that glazed quality to them.  
  
Only taking time to pick up a waterskin and a rag, Letho quickly wetted the rag and dragged it over Lambert’s body, taking extra care to be gentle with the man’s softened cock before throwing the rag to the ground and lifting Lambert up to give him some water.  
  
Lambert tilted his head at him and blinked slowly, drinking some of the water he was offered before turning his head away and nuzzling his nose in the crook of Letho’s neck. “Thanks,” he slurred, sounding like he was enjoying a good float.  
  
Letho arranged the both of them until they were both lying down on the bed chest to chest; him on the bottom, and Lambert lying on top of him. Letho still had on his trousers and light tunic and his own cock was still half hard, but that was just fine with him. That wasn’t what this had been about. “Oh, you liked that, did you?”  
  
With a little effort, Lambert tilted his head up, still resting on Letho’s chest. “Wouldn’t mind if we did that again,” he said quietly, tucking his head beneath Letho’s chin and drifting off to sleep right after.  
  
Letho wrapped his arms around Lambert and soothingly stroked along the man’s back, delighting in the small twitches he was still feeling. Not long now and they would be gone too. “I wouldn’t be opposed, myself.”  
  
**The end**


End file.
